


a small series of sightings of the elusive martin blackwood

by ceruleancats



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Humor, M/M, am i incapable of writing anything serious? maybe so, did jonmartin sneak into one of my fics again? maybe so, don't worry peter isn't a major character and when he does appear he's mercilessly bullied, hopefully i achieved this, set during s4 because i thought i could make martin and his lonely powers funny instead of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleancats/pseuds/ceruleancats
Summary: With Martin trapped in the clutches of the Lonely and that bitch Peter Lukas, no one in the Archives sees him very often. Here are a few times they do spot him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 34
Kudos: 144





	a small series of sightings of the elusive martin blackwood

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello, i am back with another terrible crack fic. my garbage can floweth over with ideas. please leave a kudos/comment if ya feel like it.
> 
> p.s. this is an AU where Targets exist in the UK (because I looked it up and apparently they don't). for my non-American readers, Targets are magical liminal spaces where you can buy groceries, home decor, toys, clothes, iPhones, vacuum cleaners, and more, all in one trip.

“I swear to god I saw him in a Starbucks this morning,” Melanie said animatedly, once she had called the rest of the Archives staff over for their daily morning Martin Meeting. Most of the time no one had anything to report and the four of them just ended up sitting in their little circle while Daisy waxed poetic about the wondrous world of the Archers and everyone else tried with increasing desperation to find polite ways to excuse themselves, but every so often, like today, they had a Sighting.

“Melanie, we’ve been over this,” Jon said, irritated. “Statement format, please.” No matter how many times he reminded them that they had agreed to record every Sighting like a statement so he could have a little snack, Melanie and Basira especially always seemed to forget. Likely intentionally, but as Jon was trying nowadays not to be “such a bitch” (Melanie’s words), he was constraining himself to gentle admonishments in a tone of extreme annoyance.

“Ugh, _fine_. Statement of Melanie King, regarding a Sighting of Martin Blackwood in the Starbucks near the Institute,” she said mechanically, rolling her eyes at Jon. “Okay, so, I was in the Starbucks, just trying to get my venti cup of straight black coffee, right? And then one of the baristas at the pickup counter says, ‘Pumpkin Spice Latte,’ and I glance over to see who the weak bitch is, and of course, it’s goddamn Martin. And you know, we haven’t had a Sighting in a while, so I wanted to get him to stay, so naturally I pull out my favorite knife, y’know, the big one, just to threaten him a little bit and make sure he doesn’t disappear on me.” Melanie paused for a second and glanced around the circle. “Like, that’s a reasonable reaction, right? I’m not going crazy here?” 

Basira shrugged. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

Daisy nodded. “I would have done the same, only with my gun.”

Jon put his head in his hands and contemplated how miraculous it was that out of everyone in the Archives, only Elias was currently incarcerated.

“Okay, good to hear. So I pull out the knife, and everyone just starts panicking, I’ve no clue why, and I lost him in the chaos. _And_ , I didn’t even get my coffee because the baristas were all too busy screaming ‘SHE’S GOT A KNIFE!!!’ and calling the police. Way to overreact, honestly. So yeah, not the best Sighting. But it’s good to know he’s still alive. Even if he does order PSLs like a weakling.” Melanie leaned back in her chair, clearly finished.

Jon glared at her.

“Jesus, okay, statement ends. No need to be like _that_.”

“Thank you, Melanie,” Jon said formally. “That was very tasty.”

“Ew, gross,” said Basira, shuddering, because she liked to bully him.

“Oh, get back to work,” Jon snapped, expertly exercising his managerial powers to make everyone shut up and leave him the hell alone.

All three of the women grumbled but scooted their chairs away and began pretending to do work. Jon sighed and pretended not to notice them pretending. Business as usual in the Archives.

—

“Alright, I ran into him at Target,” Basira began.

Jon cleared his throat obnoxiously. Basira ignored him. Jon cleared his throat even more obnoxiously. 

“Oh, do you have a chest infection?” Daisy asked politely.

“Er, no, I was just attempting to—remind Basira of the proper introduction to these Sightings,” Jon said, now rather embarrassed by Daisy’s genuine concern. 

“Fine. Statement of Basira Hussain, regarding a Sighting of Martin Blackwood in a Target.” She gave Jon a ‘happy now?’ look. He nodded approvingly. 

“I was there to buy materials for my fursui—what I was buying isn’t relevant.”

“Are you sure?” asked Daisy, looking intrigued. 

“Mhmm,” Basira said quickly. “Completely irrelevant. Anyway, I got in line to use the self checkout, and there he was, right in front of me. I tapped him on the shoulder to make sure it was him, and when he turned around I saw he was holding a DVD of The Notebook and two bottles of wine.”

“Oh _no_ " said Melanie, sounding devastated.

“RIP,” said Daisy, with feeling.

"Uh, is that bad?' said Jon, utterly lost. 

“The _Notebook_ , Jon," Melanie said, like that was supposed to clear everything up. 

Jon stared at her blankly. 

“The Notebook?” 

Jon continued to stare blankly.

“Don't bother, Melanie, he's hopeless,” Basira said disdainfully, which Jon thought was utterly unfair given that the other day, Melanie had been forced to explain to her what the Lord of the Rings was.

“Cheers, I'll drink to that,” said Daisy, pulling a flask the size of her head out of her pocket and doing so.

“That is highly unprofessional, and I will not tolerate such behavior in my Archives,” Jon said haughtily. 

Basira, Melanie, and Daisy looked into the camera like they were on the Office, even though it was an indisputable fact that there were no cameras in the Archives. Jon stayed resolute for approximately 1.5 seconds before crumbling under the combined weight of their fourth-wall-shattering gaze. “Fine, but you have to share.”

Daisy shrugged. “That’s fair.” 

“So what happened next?” asked Melanie, who was somehow the only one still invested in the rest of the story.

“Oh, he saw me, turned absolutely bright red, and disappeared in the middle of the Target in front of loads of people. I don’t think anyone saw him do it though, somehow. Bullshit Lonely magic, I think.”

“Huh, disappointing. I feel like we haven’t actually gotten to talk to Martin in forever. Like he just vanishes before we can even say anything,” Melanie said thoughtfully.

"I talked to Martin the other day!" said Peter Lukas, from where he had spontaneously manifested in the doorway. 

"Fuck off, Peter," said everyone.

Peter pouted (or at least that's what it seemed like — it was hard to make out any expression as his face was more beard than skin) and gave a heavy sigh. "You guys are so mean," he said dejectedly, before disappearing in a puff of fog like a shitty stage magician.

“Man, that guy fucking sucks,” Melanie said. “Can’t he just let us not do our jobs in peace?”

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” said Daisy again, doing so.

“Me too,” Basira said, and Daisy passed her the flask.

Jon snatched it from Basira and downed several shots worth, as he was wont to do whenever he had to interact with Peter for absolutely any period of time, and immediately regretted it, as Daisy’s drink of choice was evidently pure ethanol.

“Statement ends,” he said, a bit unsteadily, and resigned himself to the fact that today was likely going to be, as the kids called it, a big oof.

—

“Statement of Daisy Tonner, regarding a Sighting of Martin Blackwood in Artifact Storage of the Magnus Institute. Statement begins. So, I was staring sadly at the coffin where they put it in Artifact Storage, like I do every Tuesday afternoon, and I heard footsteps and turned to see who was there. It was Martin. No idea what he was doing there, but I went to lay into him about interrupting my Coffin Time — everyone knows spending alone time with the sentient coffin whose metaphorical stomach you were in for six months is a very private, personal thing — but before I could he actually spoke. Said, ‘Oh hey, Daisy.’ I was a bit surprised to hear him say anything, honestly, and my angry reaction to being interrupted came out a lot softer than I meant it to. ‘Martin,’ I said, ‘you know I take my Coffin Time very seriously, but I’m worried about you. You’ve missed our Girls and Martin Nights for months now.’”

“Sorry,” Jon interjected, “you all get together every other week without me to watch bad rom coms, paint your nails, and gossip about me?” He broke off and glared furiously at the ceiling, where someone, possibly Elias, had badly spray painted the image of an eye. “Oh really, _now_ you're going to let me Know that. Fantastic.” 

Basira interrupted his intense staring contest with the ceiling by squirting him with the spray bottle she kept on her person at all times for this sort of occasion. “Bad Archivist,” she said. “No Knowing in the Archives.”

Jon hissed like a cat and batted the bottle out of her hand. 

Daisy ignored them and continued speaking. “He clearly didn't really want to talk to me, but I pressed anyway, and he literally just flashed a peace sign and disappeared right in front of my face.” Daisy looked like she was still somewhat in shock from the blatant disrespect. “What a bitch, honestly.”

Basira and Melanie nodded vigorously in agreement. Jon would have liked to defend Martin’s honor, but he was otherwise occupied wiping water off of his face with the washcloth he kept in his pocket at all times for this sort of occasion, as Basira often proved very enthusiastic with the spray bottle.

“Could we please quit using the spray bottle?” Jon asked plaintively, futilely attempting to dry his clothes with the now sopping wet washcloth. 

“No,” said Melanie and Basira in unnerving unison. 

“Oh, statement ends,” said Daisy, the only person Jon could trust to take these seriously.

Jon shot her a thankful glance for properly and professionally ending the statement and then scowled at Melanie and Basira, which was apparently grounds for another squirting from the since retrieved bottle.

Jon groaned and covered his face in a vain attempt to protect his glasses. The Eye helpfully informed him that there were now approximately 177.48139 milliliters of water left in the spray bottle.

—

There was a cup of tea on the counter in the Archives kitchen. 

Jon approached it carefully, just in case it was an undercover manifestation of one of the Entities. Last week the bobby pin he had found on his desk and attempted to brush into the trash had been one of Helen’s, and he had ended up blinking dizzying spirals out of his vision for the rest of the day until Helen deigned to show up and take it back. So, one could never really be too cautious. The tea looked innocuous enough. It was still steaming, and there was a carton of milk sitting on the counter near it. Jon sniffed it delicately and realized it smelled exactly like Martin’s favorite blend, which he knew because of reasons. And all those observations together meant Martin was probably still in the room. 

It had been so long since Jon had actually seen Martin. The fact that he was in the Archives, right now — well, it wasn’t an opportunity he could afford to pass up on.

“Martin,” Jon said, “ _show yourself_.”

Martin appeared immediately in the doorway, where he had been trying to silently sneak away while Jon was inspecting the tea. “What the fuck, Jon? Not cool,” he said, frowning.

“Since when do you swear?” Jon asked, too scandalized to remember what he actually wanted to talk to Martin about.

“I’m a bitch now, haven’t you heard?”

“Martin!” Jon screeched, covering his ears. Then suddenly, desperately: “Has Peter been corrupting you?”

“Pffff, that bitch? As if.” Martin rolled his eyes in what would be a very good Melanie impression.

“Hey!” said an offended disembodied voice from elsewhere in the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Peter,” said Jon and Martin in unison. 

“You guys are so mean,” Peter cried, but he seemed to have fucked off because the room stayed silent and was also now about five degrees warmer.

“Okay, perhaps he’s not competent enough to properly corrupt anyone,” Jon said, having made sudden peace with Martin swearing as long as he was also willing to cuss out Peter Lukas. “I’m confiscating this tea though. For important boss reasons.” 

“You aren’t even technically my boss anymore,” said Martin, but he sounded more amused than annoyed, and he let Jon take the tea anyway. “Bye Jon.” 

By the time Jon looked up from grabbing the tea, Martin was gone. Jon held the steaming mug and briefly imagined the warmth came from Martin’s hand in his instead. Then, like the incredibly well-adjusted person he was, Jon shook his head, cruelly crushed the gay thoughts, and banished them inside his mental version of the Buried coffin, helpfully labeled “Do Not Open” just like its physical counterpart. 

“This is fine,” he said to the tea, before draining it in several gulps. He rinsed the mug, studiously ignoring the tea leaves at the bottom that spelled out ‘ur gay.’ 

Jon generously allowed himself 37 seconds of internal screaming before heading back to his office.

—

"So, no Sightings to report?" said Basira during their Martin Meeting a few weeks after Jon's tea incident.

Everyone shook their heads sadly, as this meant they were now obligated to go do work instead of sitting around gossiping about Martin.

At that very moment, Jon, who was staring off into space vaguely towards the doorway noticed the unmistakable foot of one Martin Blackwood stepping into the Archives. Martin took one look at the four of them in their circle and began to back out silently the way he had come. However, Jon was not about to let this happen. "Hello, Martin!" he said loudly, causing everyone else to turn and catch Martin in the middle of his disappearing act.

"Oh, um, heyyy guys, sorry, super busy, got to go," he said, as cheerfully as one could when their mouth was locked in an awkward grimace, and began to fade slightly around the edges.

"Wait!" Jon called, leaping out of his chair with all the grace of a 23-year-old arthritic cat. “I want you to stay. I mean, we want you to stay.” He jerked his head at Daisy, Melanie, and Basira, who gave a slightly delayed chorus of agreement. 

“Oh,” said Martin, sounding almost surprised, “really?”

“I— _we_ like spending time with you,” Jon said gently.

“Well, 80% of the time at least. Okay, maybe 78,” said Melanie.

“Definitely not below 70,” Basira added reassuringly.

“An argument could be made for 69,” said Daisy, with a very straight face.

Jon glared at them, as did all the more metaphysical eyes that lived in the Archives, including the one spray painted on the ceiling. “Martin, what we’re trying to say is that we would love to have you around here more often, you know, visibly, and whatever that bitch Peter Lukas is having you do to stop whatever he’s trying to stop, well, I think we might be able to help.”

Martin looked conflicted, though he had stopped fading away into nothingness. “Well, I don’t know… Peter was pretty clear that I wasn’t supposed to spend time with any of you…”

"What if I take you out to dinner?" Jon said impulsively, and then immediately flushed as he remembered the audience he had. God, he was such an idiot, how had this thought escaped his triple-padlocked brain coffin and slipped out of his mouth—

"Wow, I love teamwork! Depression? Never heard of her! When do we start?" Martin said with a slightly manic grin, suddenly more physically solid than he’d been in months. 

Jon was brilliant, an absolute genius, he never should have doubted himself.

From behind him, everyone cheered loudly. Daisy wolf-whistled. Melanie slapped him on the back in congratulations, somewhat harder than necessary. 

Jon smiled at Martin, who grinned back at him. “Welcome back to the team,” he said, offering Martin his hand.

Martin took it and pulled Jon into a tight hug. “Missed you,” he whispered. 

“Me too,” Jon whispered back. “We had a whole system to document whenever we saw youuuuu know what, let’s just go get that dinner now,” he said, realizing that maybe, perhaps, their Martin Meetings could possibly be construed as slightly creepy.

“Let’s,” said Martin, and they walked out of the Archives hand in hand, ignoring the invisible tantrum Peter Lukas was throwing in the corner and also the fact that it was 8:27 am.


End file.
